


Tears Come From Cracks in Her Weak Skin

by abrocadabro



Category: DreamSMP, Nihachu - Fandom, l'manburg - Fandom
Genre: #givenikiaglock2021, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Niki | Nihachu, Beating, Broken Bones, Character Death, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Fanfiction, I really don't know where this lies in canon, L'Manberg | L'Manburg on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Like, Major Character Injury, Nightmares, Niki is our true lord and savior, No Dialogue, No Sex, Other, Pogtopia on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Scalping, So much angst, Torture, Waterboarding, all ships are platonic lmao, but like, damn maybe God is a woman, im sorry, post Niki is discovered as a spy for Pogtopia, pre festival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-25 14:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrocadabro/pseuds/abrocadabro
Summary: There was a slim chance she'd never make it to Pogtopia. Too slim for her to even think about it until she had to. But she would not let them see her cry, see her weak, see her break.This was kind of an impulse write after I was reading a book (it may or may not have been Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo, you can't prove anything) and wanted to write a torture fic. So here you guys go.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Niki | Nihachu, Eret & Niki | Nihachu, Jack Manifold/Niki | Nihachu, Jschlatt/Niki | Nihachu, Karl Jacobs & Niki | Nihachu, Niki | Nihachu & Technoblade, Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu/TommyInnit
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, here goes nothing...haha

She screamed. Her soft voice exhaling sharp profanities in languages she knew her captors couldn’t understand. She made sure they knew of her fury though. Pleading, begging to be let out, for food, water, anything. Nobody came. Until hours later, when they dragged her exhausted body out of her cell and into another. Her once kind, open heart pounded, bloody thoughts of her near future raced through her mind replacing memories of her home, her beloved bakery, and country, her friends and family, with blood, fear, and pain. Instinctively, her short frame tried to squirm out of the tense hold of her captors had on her shoulders as they strapped her down onto the chair, two ropes on each of her arms, four on each leg, six on her chest, and one on her neck, which forced her head back, exposing all of her vital organs. They were careful. Smart. She could hardly even breathe. Then, a camera was brought in, it's red light already aglow. They were filming her, she realized. It’s probably being sent to Will. She shuddered. Visualizing her leader forcing himself to watch, not even caring if Tommy or Tubbo or Fundy was watching or not. She suppressed a sob. She would not let them see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
The door opened, heavy footsteps steadily growing louder. “I thought I was clear about your terms of citizenship and when I told you that fraternizing with enemies of Manburg was considered high treason. But I guess I was wrong.” The rough voice of the president ground against her eardrums. “I guess I should have known your little boyfriend would employ you as his little fly on our walls.” he’s not my boyfriend, she wanted to scream at him, “Don’t worry though,” Schlatt turned to the camera, a shit-eating grin spread across his face, he was speaking directly to Wilbur now, “we’ll be done with her soon, whether you like it or not.” They would not see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
A bucket was then brought into the room, already full of water. A thick washcloth was placed over her face. And before she could comprehend what was about to happen, before she could scream, or plead for mercy, Schlatt emptied the bucket over her, letting the water soak in. Her lungs hiccupped and stuttered. She coughed, choking on the taste of the cloth mixing with the water. “That was just a test run, see how you would react. You know? Now, if you answer my questions, then maybe I’ll spare you of more pain. What do you say?”  
“Fuck-Fuck you. I will never talk.” She stuttered, trying to gasp for breath, but the ropes on her neck were too tight, the water was too heavy. But they would not see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
“Whatever. Maybe you won’t talk. But I’m sure that, after a couple sessions of this, your family will.”  
They could not see her eyes widen, but they certainly heard her scream, “Do not come for me, Wilbur! L’Manburg comes before me! That’s what I value most, its secrets will die with me if they must! Do not come for me!” Another failed gasp for breath, “I’ll be okay. I won’t let you down!” Her words and breath were cut off by another swath of water.  
“That was getting boring.” Schlatt’s annoyance was prominent in his voice, “Now, let’s start with something easy: Who are the others? That Wilbur Soot isn’t dumb enough to give you such a heavy task, so there must be more. Names and we’ll cease the pain for today. If you don’t talk, well,” Schlatt chuckled, “I’ll make sure that never happens.” She stayed silent. They would not see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
More water. The cloth on her face was beginning to get too heavy, too suffocating. Her lungs burned with each inhale. The seemingly never-ending cycle of question then water then question then water seemed to go on for hours, even though it probably only lasted likely a half-hour or less. She never spoke a word the entire time, not after her cry to Wilbur. She never let them see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
When they brought her back to her cell, skin bruised and raw from the ropes and head spinning from the torture, she dragged her weak body to the far back corner, curling in on herself. This was where she finally allowed herself to cry, to be weak, to break.


	2. Chapter Two

The next day was different. She was brought into the same room, tied to the same chair, watched as they brought the same camera in, but this time she was not covered in a washcloth, this time Schlatt walked in wielding only a small knife. A small knife. One that sliced a paper cut into her reserves of courage at just one glance. “Hello, Niki. Are you ready to talk?” Once more, she stared ahead, her face set in stone. Schlatt continued talking. “I’m going to ask some questions, the pain will stop as soon as you answer them. Correctly, may I add. Give us any false information and your punishment will be worse than death. Do you understand?” She gave no response. “Let us begin. What are the names of the other traitors?” He brushed back her pale blonde bangs, she had just retouched her roots not one week ago. The almost kind touch of his hand on her forehead caused her to jolt, memories of Wilbur doing the same to fix a stray lock or to keep her hair out of her face while she tucked her head into a toilet, emptying her bowels after eating undercooked meat. The sudden crash of memories kick-started her adrenaline and she thrashed in her seat, not even caring if she was suffocating herself with the ropes tied around her neck because of it. Only after she managed to bite into Schlatt’s forearm did she feel several arms grab her and force her still. Amid her violent tantrum, her eyes locked with those of permanent marker on a deceitful white mask.  
“You created this!” She screamed at the tall figure, who hid any reaction he had, “You created this world! Will you just stand there and watch as we tear it apart? As a tyrannical leader like Schlatt mercilessly tortures an injured and innocent citizen? Or will you finally step in and be a man? Are you too much of a coward to even look me straight in the eye? Are you too much of a coward to do what you know in your heart is right? You may be the ruler of this land, but let me tell you this: Your reign is clay. It will crack and it will shatter and it will fall. And you better pray that it is not because of me.” Her fury was now directed entirely to the masked soldier, a beam of total anger, “Look at me, you bastard! Look at me!”  
“Answer Schlatt’s questions, Niki.” The man finally spoke, his voice just louder than a whisper, “You know that you can stop the pain if you do that.”  
If she wasn’t tied up, she would have smashed his head in between the heavy iron doors. “Are you done?” Schlatt sighed, bored. “Will you finally answer my question, now?” Her lips were sealed shut. And they stayed shut. Even when Schlatt placed the knife at her hairline and pressed it down. Even when he dragged that knife across her forehead, outlining her scalp in bright red blood. Even when her beautiful blonde hair was dyed red with blood, slowly becoming heavier and heavier the wetter the hair became. The only reaction she gave the man was a quickened heart rate, her chest painfully rising at an agonizing rate, her lungs still burning with white-hot fire from the day before. And yet, she still promised herself this: They would not see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
When Schlatt had finished, her eyes were glued shut from the blood, which had flooded down her face. She only felt her body get lifted into the air and carried back to her cell. She didn’t know how long it was until she heard the door open again, footsteps approaching her. The sounds of water sloshing around made her realize just how thirsty she was. She would probably die if she didn’t drink anything soon. Schlatt would’ve let her die because of dehydration. Right? Yet, the only thoughts that stuck in the front of her mind were the memories of the day before. The pain. The fear. The fire.  
The water didn’t meet her lips though, instead, she felt a warm, damp washcloth rub at her eyes gently, soft hands just barely grazing her skin. “Tubbo,” she whispered, recognising his gentle breathing.  
“Hey, Niki." she heard him say, "Listen, I’m so, so, so sorry for what Schlatt is putting you through. I had no idea he would do this.'" he stopped for a second, wiping away tears, "This, this isn’t torture, Niki, he’s just killing you slowly. And I can’t stop him. I wish I could. I really wish I could stop him.” His voice hiccuped with the sounds of his sobbing.  
“Tubbo, stop. This isn't your fault. It's nobody’s fault. I chose not to speak of L’Manburg’s secrets. Remember what I said yesterday?” The boy’s head shook, her eyesight finally restored, admittedly a little worse than before. “I said ‘L’Manburg comes before me. That’s what I value most, it’s secrets will die with me if they must,’ and I meant that. I’d rather die than succumb to the monster that calls himself ‘President’.” She smiled, hoping that the sobbing boy would follow her lead.  
“He said he’s going to break your bones next,” Tubbo whispered. Niki’s eyes widened, the idea of pain that intense was too difficult to suppress. “He’ll break your bones, and if you still won't talk, he’s going to find Tommy. Niki, he’s going to kill Tommy. He can't kill Tommy.”  
She pulled Tubbo forward, embracing him into a hug, calming him down as she whispered, “That won't happen. He will not be a casualty in this war. I refuse to let that happen. Send a message to Will. Tell him I’m fine, don't come for me, and keep Tommy in his sight at all times. Promise me you’ll stay safe as well, Tubbo. You’re just as important and Schlatt’s been weary of you since the beginning.”  
“What about you? He’ll kill you if he can’t get any information. And if Schlatt continues like this, you won't survive the week.”  
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”  
Tubbo stood up, pulling Niki up with him, "Are you sure? I don't want to lose you, Niki."  
She smiled, “You know what they say about a woman that has nothing to lose.” not bothering to finish the sentence, she watched him leave the cell, locking it behind him. And despite her smile, she couldn’t help but feel like she was saying goodbye.  
But she would never let them see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
~  
Tubbo was right, over the indeterminate amount of time she was in that nightmarish chair, Schlatt managed to shatter the entirety of her feet, legs, and hips as she lay in silence, characteristically choosing to stay quiet. Each sickening blow to her legs caused her to seize with pain, fire brewing in her muscles, shards of bone pressing through her skin. He would send hit after hit to her body until her legs were too swollen for her to even look at without a wave of nausea overloading her senses.  
Her lack of nutrition didn’t help either. She hadn’t eaten in over a week, having rationed her food the weeks before her capture. They had refused to feed her any healthy food other than raw potatoes, which did nothing but fuel her starvation. In fact, the lack of sustenance in her body likely aided in how easily her bones broke.  
'For L'Manburg', she would repeat to herself with each gust of torment.  
'For Tommy'.  
'For Tubbo'.  
'For Wilbur'.  
It. Was. Agonizing. But they would not see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
No matter how torturous it was to do so.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter expands what you read at the end of the last chapter, so keep that in mind when reading this.

The next day was just the same as the last. She was once more brought to that terrible cell, which was now covered in her blood. She was once more strapped down to the chair that had now begun to appear in her dreams as well as her nightmares with the now bloody ropes, having blistered away at her skin until it hurt just to touch them. This time though her legs wereu left only loosely confined, suggesting that they were the targets of Schlatt’s questioning.  
She prayed to every deity she could name that they weren't.  
Her neck was also left free, presumably so that they could force her to watch what was to happen. Sure enough, the president himself walked in, carrying a large chunk of stone.  
They weren't just going to break her legs. She realized too late. They were going to mangle them. They were going to destroy them. She would never walk again. “I’m going to give you one chance to answer my extremely simple question. One. Chance. Do you understand me?” Like the previous two days, she stayed characteristically in silence. They would not see her cry, see her weak, see her break.  
And the torture began.  
He started with her feet, crushing every toe until they were unrecognizable. Every minuscule little bone was shattered under the weight of the rock.  
He moved to her ankles and shins.  
He stomped on those.  
She would hear the breaking of those bones for eternity.  
He took the rock to her knees and went at them as if they were snakes trying to bite his son.  
He let Fundy break her femurs and hips. "Prove your allegiance to me," he said, handing her former running mate the rock.  
She silently begged for him to decline the order.  
She silently cursed him as he took the rock with steady hands, and harshly brought it down on her hips.  
Schlatt encouraged Fundy to do his worst.  
But what is worse than the betrayal of one's closest friend and ally?  
The mutilation of one's closest friend and ally.  
So there she lay, her legs crumpled and distorted, silently half praying from the center of her cell that Tubbo would come to see her again. Maybe he would bring water again, or better, food. Hot, steamy rolls of bread or a chunk of steak she could finally sink her teeth into. She never knew how much she missed her bakery until that moment. How much she longed for her handmade cakes and loaves of bread. Just the thought made her mouth water despite her dehydration.  
But it was not Tubbo who swung open the iron-barred doors of her cell. Instead, the president himself stood over her weak frame, which was steadily growing weaker as infection from the cuts on her face and legs and arms had begun to get infected from the lack of proper dressing and medical care. Dismissively, he stepped over her swollen and purple legs, crouching beside her face, “Wilbur Soot is negotiating for your release. I guess your little silent act was all for nothing. Don’t worry though. He won’t get you back so easily.”  
She didn't know how it happened, but sparks flew as she leaped onto Schlatt, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his hair back, forcing him to look at her. His eyes are wild and fearful as they strained to look at her. “If you touch a single hair on any of their heads I will personally tear you limb from limb, slowly and painfully, until you are unidentifiable. Let this be a warning, you have not seen me angry yet.” Schlatt thrashed around, trying to get Niki off his back. It was only after he slammed his body against the stone walls did she let go, but not before taking a chunk of neck she’d bitten off with her, her fists full of his hair. The man looked at her in sheer horror, and ran out, his blood spilling onto his crisp suit. Her hands flew to the back of her head, only to be met with more blood. Although, she didn’t know how much was hers and how much was Schlatt’s as she stared at the chunk of flesh in her palms. She couldn’t eat human meat, she settled. Niki and her empty stomach drew the line at that, even as she passed out from the starvation and blood loss.  
She awoke back in the cell again. Schlatt and his followers standing over her. A white bandage was wrapped around Schlatt’s neck, who still looked a little pale and weary of her presence, it didn't stop him from leaning down and grabbing her face harshly in his hand, “Payback time, you little bitch.”  
She couldn’t remember where the first kick landed, her ribs, maybe? Or it could have been her shoulder blade. It didn’t matter anyway. If it wasn’t hit in the first blow, it was in the second. Or the third. Or the fourth. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to recall the memories of her past. Showing Eret her bakery for the first time. Meeting Tommy and Wilbur in the forest. Digging out her home in the little beach on the outskirts of L’Mangburg. Watching the sunsets with Wilbur, slowly falling asleep in his lap. The purity that was her life before the madness that is this war. But as soon as the beating began, it ended with as much flourish, with voices and metal clashing in a cacophony of noise. And she was left alone. Alone to breathe what little amount of breath she could catch with broken ribs and burning lungs. Alone to choke back tears, stifle her vulnerability, and tape together the steadily growing cracks in her courage.  
It didn’t take her long to realize just who her captors were fighting. Why they were fighting them. So she mustered her strength, agonizingly pulled herself to a sitting position, and dragged herself over to the door. When she discovered that nobody had been smart enough to lock it, she nearly passed out from glee. Slowly and painfully, Niki maneuvered her body down the hallway to the armory, where she equipped herself in full diamond armor and a gleaming sword. A fairly difficult task for someone with her current and hopefully temporary disability. Before she left, she downed three strength potions and pocketed several other miscellaneous potions she knew would come in handy. The rush of adrenaline and power began to course through her body, allowing her to stand alone for the first time in days. The feeling of newly established fortitude in her body was powerful. She was a forest fire. Terrifying. Wild. Unstoppable. Schlatt had struck a match on dry wood and he would be the one to suffer from his burns.  
It didn’t take long for her to find the source of all the fighting. The sounds of yelling and metal guiding her through the winding hallways of the bunker. When she arrived at the carnage, armor gleaming and eyes glowing with fury, she locked onto Wilbur, who was fighting Dream alone. He seemed to be her only ally in the room. Tommy and Tubbo must have run off to different fights.  
'Or they were already dead.' a voice whispered in her ear.  
“They’re not dead,” she whispered back.  
Knowing she still had the element of surprise, Niki quickly drank an invisibility potion and removed her armor, the only sign of her existence being the sword still in her hand. Silently, she snuck up to Dream and struck him in the legs, nearly severing them. This allowed Wilbur to get a good hit in, rendering the green soldier a confused and wounded man. Staring at Will, she said nothing but noted the overjoyed expression he had on his face as the potion wore off, revealing her physical form. Not wasting a single second, she donned her armor once again, still feeling the effects of the strength potions. Schlatt quickly took inventory of her sudden appearance, shock leeching the gleeful facade off of his face. “Happy to see me, Schlatt? Or did you think I was dead? Don’t you remember Mr.President? You have not seen me angry! So, allow me to show you angry.”  
And she let go. The full force of her power concentrated on the singular enemy ahead of her, her vision tunneling until it was just Niki and Schlatt. The flame and the wood. She would char him until not even a single lock of hair was left. There was no time for him to react. No time to come up with some witty one-liner or swing his sword. She didn’t care if he was wearing powerful armor or wielded an enchanted weapon. It didn’t matter in the end. It all cut like paper under her fire. And before she was done, his body lay before her, and she was victorious. It was over.  
“Niki,” Wilbur gasped. She slowly turned to face him, the strength potions beginning to slow. He was covered in blood, one of his hands clutching his side. It was just them. They were alone. Where the rest of Manburg went she neither knew nor cared, because in that moment, Schlatt was dead and she wasn't. She was going to be okay. She was going to be free. “You’re alive!” He ran over to her, enveloping her into his arms, partially holding her weakening body upright. She was too tired to return his gesture or to warn him of her injuries. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, carefully lifting her shaking body into his arms. It was too easy for him. She was too light. Too frail. She was not crying, though. She was not weak. She was not broken.  
Yet.  
“Are Tommy and Tubbo safe?” She coughed out. The potions were now completely gone from her body and the pain from before was returning too quickly.  
Wilbur was silent, then, “Yeah, of course, they’re safe. Knowing them, they’re already back at Pogtopia with Techno.”  
“Technoblade joined us?” Niki asked.  
“Yeah! He had a lot of really good ideas for taking back L’Manburg.” his voice choked a little. Niki didn’t hear it. The fire in her legs was rapidly growing and she began to wheeze, her lungs still far too damaged to have endured today. This Wilbur took fast notice of, “It’s going to be okay, Niki. You’re going to be okay. Do you hear me? You can’t die on me. You can’t leave me alone.” Time seemed to slow as he raced to the exit. She fought to keep her eyes open, she wanted to witness her freedom. As he ran, she caught glimpses of bodies scattered up and down the hallways, but she paid them no mind. They never saw her cry, saw her weak, saw her break. She was finally, finally free.


	4. Chapter Four

Over the next week after her rescue, her consciousness was as fluid as the regeneration and healing potions Wilbur gave her daily. She still wasn’t eating, every time she did, her stomach would refuse to tolerate it. She could tell Wilbur was steadily growing more and more concerned as he watched her grow weaker and weaker. On days where Niki’s fever was at its highest, it took all her effort to not throw herself into the below-freezing temperatures of the tundra outside, so she made Wilbur put her in the bathtub filled with ice water and snow. He hated seeing her like this, it was obvious on his face. When she was sleeping, he was watching her, scanning for signs that her fever had finally broken. Signs that she was finally recovering. Signs that everything would be okay.  
She would ask for the others. For Tommy and Tubbo. For Techno, who she never even knew was on her side. He always told her they were sleeping or getting food, or at the border.  
She didn’t know whether or not to believe him.  
Her fever broke near the end of the second week. When she woke up to find herself covered in her own sweat. When she could speak coherent sentences and understand what Wilbur was saying. He, of course, was overjoyed, and immediately helped her over to a chair that had been stationed near her bed. Her legs had been slowly healing, excruciatingly wrapped in thick wood splints, but neither of them knew how much damage there actually was, only what they could see and feel.  
After the second-day post fever, Wilbur came in with a small sewing kit and healing potions, “Now that the infection is starting to let up, I think I can stitch that cut on your face up now. I had to let it stay open to let it clean out but now I think it’s okay.” She had almost forgotten about the cut. Almost. Every time she went to move her hair she was reminded of that tiny knife. The tiny knife that sliced open her skin. Blinding her with her own blood. Staining her hair red. It still stung. The irritated skin around it was bright red and white-hot to touch. But still, with calm, cool hands, Wilbur carefully cleaned the wound, dousing the flesh in cold healing potions, which brought a tingling relief to the skin. Slowly, he weaved a small needle in and out of the cut. In and out. In and out.  
In.  
Out.  
In.  
Out.  
The repetition soothed. Distracting her from Wilburs fingers on her forehead. She knew he meant no harm as he made contact with her. But still, a tiny voice told her otherwise. Something in her head told her not to trust Wilbur. Tried to convince her that he was only a spy. Healing her only to give her back over.  
“Stop.”  
“What? I’m almost done.” Wilbur protested.  
“Will. Stop. Now. Please.” Her heart was racing now. She could hear Schlatt cutting her skin. The knife. She could see the knife. The chair.  
She was back in that fucking chair again. No. No no no no. This can’t be happening. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Everything hurt. Everything burned. She could see Dream. Watching her. Expressionless. Tubbo was behind him. Trembling as he watched her on the verge of screaming. On the verge of tears. On the verge of giving everything up. She was back in the chair. The ropes burned at her skin. Blood was trailing down her wrists and neck as she thrashed against Schlatt’s hold. Everything hurt. Everything hurt. So bad. So, so bad.  
“Niki.” Wilbur's voice was a whispered hush from across the room. “Niki. You’re not in Manburg. Schlatt is not here. He can’t hurt you anymore. You killed him. Remember?”  
“Schlatt’s not here.” She quietly repeated.  
“You’re okay. Okay?”  
“I’m okay.”  
“Let’s take a break.” Wilbur started towards her, causing her to recoil back. “I won’t touch you. Not until you’re ready. I’m just going to give you the bandages for your head. It’s stitched up enough to heal properly, but you can wrap it yourself. We can work on your legs and other cuts later.” He slowly presented the clean wrappings to her, which she took. Hands shaking badly. “Do you want to try eating something? I can get you water while you calm down?”  
No water. Please no water. “No water. I’ll try to eat though.” She suffered through the phrase, slowly tying each letter and word.  
Wilbur nodded and left to retrieve some food. She was alone now. Truly alone. 'I should finish with my head. Can't let it get even more infected.' she thought to herself. Picking up the needle and thread with shaking hands, she slowly sewed the remaining skin together and dabbed the rest of the healing potion on the wound. Then she went to retrieve the bandages from the table, only to discover that Wilbur had placed them on the crafting table across the room.  
Silently cursing him, she painfully lifted herself up from the chair, tear brimming her eyes from the pain of standing. She was standing. For the first time in weeks. She was standing.  
And then she was falling.  
So much for standing.  
Deciding that the best alternative is to drag herself across the floor, she slowly gained the strength to extend herself outwards and grip the coarse cobblestone with her fingers. She pulled, her arms shaking as they pulled her legs behind her. She wiped beads of sweat from her forehead, praying that the tension she felt in her face didn’t accidentally blow a stitch. Once more she extended her arms and pulled her near limp body across the floor. And again, and again. What should have been a three-second endeavor was now taking her ten minutes, her face, arms, and chest damp from the sweat dripping down her skin. But soon, at long last, she reached the crafting table and grabbed the bandages from the top. Now to go back. 'I’m going to have to re-clean the wound.' She steeled her nerves for the journey back to the chair and extended her arms once again.


	5. Chapter Five

Wilbur returned a half-hour after she finished wrapping her head. He had opened the door, eyes red but arms full of food ready to be cooked. When she asked if he had been crying, he simply brushed it off and said it was because he had accidentally fallen into a berry bush with thorns that were sharper than normal.   
She knew he was lying.   
She didn’t say anything.  
She was silent as Wilbur examined the rest of her injuries, equating what to heal next, what was more severe. He cautiously laid one of his hands on her knee, and when she nodded her okay, he took a pair of scissors and slowly cut open the legs of her pants until they were split up to her upper thigh. The sight that was revealed was terrifying. Despite the bones having been set in tight splints and pumped full of regeneration potions, there was nothing they could do to stop the swelling and bruising that still flowered her skin. “Doesn’t Techno usually keep some healing potions on him?” Niki asked. Wilbur’s face paled at the sound of Technoblade’s name. She didn’t notice, and continued speaking, “Where is he? Maybe he can give us a few. Aren’t we running out anyways?”   
“Niki,” Wilbur began, but the girl had no plans of stopping.  
“Where is Techno, anyways, Wilbur? I haven't seen him or Tommy or Tubbo since I woke up. You're always saying that they're outside getting food or patrolling the border, but that isn't the case isn't it?” Wilbur’s lie was slowly being pulled out from under him, a loose thread just begging to be yanked from a sweater. “Wilbur? Just tell me. Please tell me where they are. Please tell me if I killed them.”  
“You didn't kill them, Niki.” Wilbur began, “And even if you did, it wouldn't have been you're fault.”  
Niki fell back, face pale, hands shaking, eyes wide with hopeful disbelief, was this real?, “But they are dead, yes? Tommy and Tubbo and Techno are dead?” Wilbur looked down, tears falling down his face, her eyes pleaded to follow suit, “Will. Wilbur, look at me.”  
He looked up, eyes watery, mouth twitching from suppressed sobs, “Yes, Niki. Tommy and Tubbo and Techo are dead. And I was the one who killed them.”  
Everything stopped and started at that moment.   
They were dead.  
They were all dead.  
She had no reaction, her mouth only slightly agape as Wilbur told her what happened: Tommy was originally the one who wanted to rescue Niki. Techno was obviously on board because he loved anything that had to do with attacking a corrupt government. He loved anything to do with attacking a government period. When they approached Wilbur with a plan, he was naturally apprehensive, about the dangers, about the consequences. But eventually, he allowed it. He just wanted her back, back home. When Tubbo came to give his report of the goings-on in Manburg, they told him of the plan. After seeing the condition she was in, he eagerly agreed to the plan. Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur geared up, while Tubbo went back to Manburg to affirm Schlatt of his loyalty. Schlatt had just returned from his visit with Niki, his neck still wet with blood, both his and hers. Sensing Tubbo’s infidelity, he stabbed the boy. A single knife. Straight into his stomach. Tubbo bled out in minutes.   
He was so young. He was so innocent.  
And within seconds he was reduced to a casualty in a war he should have never been a part of.   
Tommy could do nothing but watch as his best friend's life slipped away in his arms. Schlatt laughed maniacally as Tommy pummeled him into the ground, blood flying from his first.   
And Tommy would have gone further, Tommy could have been the end of Schlatt if he hadn’t grabbed the same knife that murdered Tubbo and slashed Tommy’s throat from ear to ear. His death was quick, painless, and completely silent.  
Wilbur and Techno watched as the two boys died. Hand in hand, side by side. As they were always meant to be.   
They could do nothing.   
As they watched Tommy die, Schlatt managed to pick himself up and limp away while under the cover of the shock of the death of L’Manburg’s bravest warrior. Techno and Wilbur were too distracted to care. They should have, though. Maybe if they put up more of a fight, Niki wouldn’t be in such bad shape. Maybe more lives would have been saved. It was too late now to hold regret. The two somberly carried the boys outside and rested their stiffening bodies on the horses they took to ride into Manburg. As they reentered the base, their grief turned to anger, and their anger turned to fury.   
The search for Schlatt was quick, as they found Dream waiting outside a thick iron door, his formidable person hovering just in front of the white metal. He saw them immediately, and Techno ran forward, his crimson cloak flying behind him like bloody wings. Dream noticed the swine king, of course, noting the anger behind his swings, and produced a glimmering sword and shield, his emotionless mask hiding any expressions of surprise. The match lasted only minutes. But in those minutes, Techno was able to strike the mask off of the man’s face, revealing green eyes and a mop of blonde hair. A gash across his nose painted the trail Techno’s blade took across Dream’s face. His eyes widened in surprise and an emotion Wilbur could only describe as fear.   
He looked almost human.   
Almost.   
Techno saw it as well, his faltering stance displaying his shock for the world to see. Dream took a chance, and thrust his sword into Technoblade’s chest, letting him fall slowly to the ground. Wilbur ran to them as Dream ran away. Techno tried to stand, to go after Dream, to fulfill his mission. Wilbur eased him back down, “Wilbur, I need to go after him. You know I have to,” he choked out, blood speckling both silk and skin.  
“No, Techno. I think,” tears welled up in Techno’s eyes as he realized what was going to come out of Wilbur’s mouth, “I think Dream finally got the best of you. I think this is your time.”  
“Heh, I guess. It was a good run though, don’t you think?” Wilbur choked back tears, failing abysmally, Techno reached up to wipe them away, “Wilbur, I had a good life. And, I guess if I had to die fighting for a cause, I’m glad that cause is Niki.”  
Wilbur smiled, “Same. She’s the cause we should have been fighting for all this time.”  
“Wilbur,” Techno gasped for breath, “Wilbur, I don’t want to die.” Tears wed with the blood on his face, his hand grasping Wilbur’s.  
“I know, I know. Remember what we used to say, though?” Wilbur chuckled, pulling the monarch close, “Technoblade never dies.”  
“Technoblade never dies.” the light faded from his eyes as they looked up to Wilbur. All signs of life, all signs of the power Techno held died as he faded away, and Wilbur was alone.  
Technoblade was dead.  
Tubbo was dead.  
Tommy was dead.  
And Wilbur was alone.  
But the fight wasn’t over. Dream had escaped. Schlatt has escaped. Niki was still missing.  
But what if she’s dead? a voice rang in his head.  
“She’s not dead,” he whispered back.  
And he was right. As his sword clashed with Dream’s he felt a powerful entity enter the room and draw closer to them. Dream’s legs suddenly flew out from under him, blood spurting out of identical cuts on the backs of his knees, he screamed and fell to the ground. Wilbur saw the chance and took it, knocking Dream upside the head, ensuring a nasty concussion. If he didn’t bleed out as he was unconscious. As he stared at the empty space above Dream, Niki slowly lost her invisibility. Despite her weak form, the blood, and obvious broken bones, he was ecstatic, a wide smile cracking the drying blood on his face. She made no motion of glee, and instead simply nodded and donned a set of enchanted netherite armor, not wasting a single second as she ran so fast she flew at Schlatt, who only now realized his mistake. He had no power against the nearly unrecognizable woman as she tackled him to the ground, her fists replacing Tommy’s as she threw punch after punch into Schlatt’s body. As he watched from afar, Wilbur noticed that this was not Niki. At least, not the one he knew and loved. Not the one that brought him fresh-baked bread as he slaved over piles of paperwork. Not the one who always laughed at his poor attempts at flirting, and instead of making fun of him, returned his compliments with ones of her own creation. This was not the Niki that sewed the flag of L’Manburg, stitch by stitch. This was not the Niki that Tommy and Techno came to with holes in their uniforms after an afternoon of sparring, begging her to repair them, only to find themselves learning how to fix the holes themselves, they came back every time, though, staying only for her stories of what she saw as she roamed L’Manburg. This was not Niki, this was an animal fueled only by her fire lit by her fury. This was not Niki, something inside her had snapped. This was not Niki, kind and welcoming and motherly. This was not Niki, for she had let go.


End file.
